You Ever Dance With The Devil In Pale Moonlight?
by BlueEyedDemonLiz
Summary: Just Sam and Dean watching a movie but things are never simple for the Winchesters. Weechesters first chapter, second chapter set in Season Three includes spoilers for 'Mystery Spot'.
1. Chapter 1

"**You Ever Dance With The Devil In The Pale Moonlight?"**

_Just Sam and Dean watching a movie but things are never simple for the Winchesters. _

_Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own the Winchesters, or Supernatural, or anything that cool so please don't rub it in..._

_**1989 – Emmetsburg, Iowa**_

The Riviera Theatre's a small place, the kind of place which only ever shows two movies at a time. It's never very busy despite the love the elderly owner lavishes upon it, always ensuring the red carpet which runs from the plate glass entrance doors to the ticket kiosk is vacuumed daily although it's thread worn in places and smells kind of funny. However, most folks in town still choose to visit the multiplex out by the intersection. Probably because the multiplex is part of an obscenely successful chain of nationwide cinemas, has ten screens, sells foot long hot dogs and serves every flavour of Ben & Jerry's known to man. The Theatre is open every day, even on a Sunday and the owner's smile, which has developed an edge of desperate hope to it, is nervously flashed at anyone who lingers in the doorway to look at the film posters. Despite the Riviera Theatre's air of inescapable decay, Dean Winchester leans back in his cherry red upholstered seat and watches the "Batman" movie opening credits with a gigantic grin on his young face.

The toffee flavoured popcorn is verging on the stale side but Dean chomps his way through several huge mouthfuls with inherent glee. Sammy had insisted on a box of chocolate covered raisins. With his eyes agog at the rows of brightly packaged candy under a glass counter smeared with kiddie fingerprints Sammy had chosen something which too closely resembled fruit to be worthy of Dean's interest. So Sammy got to have the entire box to himself and had emptied half of it before the movie had even started. With popcorn filled cheeks Dean glances over at his six-year-old kid brother whose face is starting to look a touch green and sniggers in a way only loving big brother's can manage.

They're too young for the movie but it's amazing how easy it is to convince a grown-up to buy you some cinema tickets when you wave ten bucks in the face of a bum who's so anxious for a shot of hard liquor he'd buy a porn mag for a baby. They're too young for a lot of things life has dealt them but Dean wants to skip school and the darkened corner of a cinema seems a good place to hide. Not to mention that Dean had been bursting with eagerness to see the movie ever since he'd read about it in a week old newspaper discarded in the local Laundromat.

Sammy had been excited by the prospect of going to the cinema. A very rare treat for a family who watch every single dime like Ebenezer Scrooge on a good day but he'd been worried about skipping school. Worried to the point of near tears until Dean had gently reassured his little brother that all kids skip school every now and again and dad had always said that they need to try and fit in. Sammy doesn't hunt, not yet, not whilst his fingers are still too pudgy to grip the trigger of a Glock capably and his legs too short to give him enough speed. No, Sammy doesn't hunt, doesn't even know the truth about the horrors in the dark. Right now Sammy's life is as close to normal as it's ever going to get for a kid who lives like a nomad with a dad who's never around and a ten year old brother playing mummy. Dean hunts or at least tries to but it's hard when you're ten years old and at times so paralysed with fear you can't think straight. He's daddy's right hand man. A right hand man who's under five foot tall and still likes his drinks to come with a straw.

Going to the cinema is a welcome break for Dean, sitting in a cinema seat with a popcorn bucket in one hand and a soda in the other is a moment Dean truly intends to savour. There's a double-edged throwing knife tucked in the back of Dean's boot but if he doesn't think too hard about it he can pretend he can't feel the presence of cool steel chilling his warm skin.

The cinema is almost empty. It's ten thirty am on a Thursday morning after all but that's not the reason, the reason is that everyone and their grandma are at the multiplex most likely munching hot dogs that taste of paradise. There's just Sam, Dean and some old guy sat on his own at the back. The old guy Dean already has pegged as some creepy ass weirdo and if he even looks at Sam funny he's going to get a knife shoved somewhere painful. Then Batman is on the screen and Dean stops eyeballing the weirdo long enough for his jaw to drop open in awe because as far as Dean is concerned, Batman is awesome.

The movie has both brothers' undivided attention and they jump at the scary bits and laugh at the funny bits and around the time the Joker shows up Dean realizes Sammy isn't watching anymore, Sammy has his coat pulled right up over his head. Dean sucks in a breath and scans the darkened cinema for whatever it is that has his brother shaking. _Shaking_ even though Dean's sitting right next to him but there are no ghosts, werewolves or bogeymen in sight just the old weirdo sat at the back. Dean shoots an annoyed glance over at him but he's fast asleep, his head lolling on his chest, his lips parted catching flies.

Then Dean remembers.

Remembers a murky night two years ago and four year old Sammy screaming as daddy shot the evil clown that was trying to suck the life out of little Marie Cooper. Sammy had been taken back to the motel and tucked into bed an hour later and had laid there trembling whilst Dean tried to smooth down the wayward curls that clung to his little brother's sweat soaked forehead. _"Just a nightmare Sammy, it wasn't real."_ Dean had repeated the mantra till his throat was sore and he almost believed it himself. Dad had tried to protect them that night. Had told them to wait in the car but Sammy knew Marie from school and when he saw her walk into the fairground with her parents by her side he had hopped out of the Impala before Dean could grab him.

Dean looks up at the cinema screen in time to see Jack Nicholson's painted face cackle devilishly at Michael Keaton and he grabs Sammy's hand and runs out of the cinema with his brother dragged behind him.

When they're back at their low rent downtown two bed apartment Dean knows Sammy's trying to be brave but his brother's face isn't green anymore it's pale, too pale and his eyes keep flicking around the room as though he expects something (a clown) to jump out and eat him.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean whispers placing a tall glass of cold milk in his brother's hand. Sammy's lip trembles and he doesn't answer like he's worried he'll start crying if he tries to say anything. "Do you want to know why I skipped class today?" Dean's not even sure he'd doing the right thing telling Sammy the truth for a change but it feels right.

Sammy sips at his milk and nods eagerly because he's the youngest Winchester and subsequently right at the bottom on the 'need to know' priority list.

"I'd got gym class today with Mr Brookes, you know he's a real hard ass right?"

Sammy giggles a little, Dean only uses words like 'ass' when daddy's not at home.

"I'd got gym but I didn't want anyone to see these." Dean lifts up his t-shirt and Sammy's eyes widen at the rainbow of purple and yellow bruises covering Dean's thin chest.

"Did daddy do that?" Sam whispers shocked, an avalanche of tears threatening to fall.

"Jeez Sammy no, of course not." Dean replies sternly because dad might be hard as nails but he doesn't hit his kids, not ever. "Remember that man on the news, the man they said was hurting people?" The man was _killing_ people, ripping out their insides and eating their hearts. The man was a werewolf but Sammy doesn't need to know the fine details.

Sammy nods again, turning around in his seat to give Dean his full attention.

"Well dad and I stopped him last week."

"When I was staying at Pastor Jims?"

"That's right Sammy. That man's not going to hurt anyone anymore."

"Is dad like a superhero, like Batman?"

"He's just like Batman which means he can kill the Joker no problem."

Sammy smiles and Dean smiles right back when he sees his little brother's face has regained a touch of color. "Then you're like Robin?" Sammy asks pointedly.

"Kinda...but no way would I ever wear tights." Dean lifts up his arm and Sammy slides over on the coach until he's lent right up against Dean's side. "Batman and Robin, dad and me, we'd never let anyone hurt you Sammy." He whispers into the curly chestnut hair but Sammy's already let his eyes sink closed because he's six years old but he knows that much about life at least.

-0-

_Okay I'm thinking about doing a second chapter to this, set in Season Three using the same theme of Sam and Dean watching a movie. __Please__ take a moment to review and let me know what you think. _

_For those who've never watched "Batman" – where've you been?! And...erm...the title of this fic is a quote from the movie._


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's part two, it's a little longer than the first part and you might read it wondering 'where's the movie reference?' but trust me, you'll get to it. I kept veering off in all directions with this and it's kind of ended up a tag for 'Mystery Spot', which is weird considering I don't write episode tags. Ho hum, guess that's fanfic writing for you._

_Huge hugs to everyone who read Chapter One and especially those who took the time to hit the 'review' button._

**"You Ever Dance With The Devil In The Pale Moon Light?" Chapter Two**

Dean's weary, wiped out to the point where even his bones ache. Could sleep for a month, _could sleep for eternity_, but that's not something he wants to chew on for too long because that's exactly what he will be doing in no time at all. _The prolonged sleep._ Boy, he's going to make one fine sleeping beauty. Only there's no way in hell Dean's letting a handsome prince come within a lip-puckering yard of him.

Pushing up daisies or a pile of smouldering ashes, one way or another that's how the year's going to end for Dean.

No more Sam, no more Impala, no more women, no more head banging toe-tapping rock, no more pie _(Dean's not too distraught about that one, he lost his taste for pie sometime ago)_. No. More. Sam.

Now that's a serious kick in the nuts if ever there was one and yes Dean knows what he's on about there. He's been on the receiving end of several stiletto'ed groin strikes in his time. _('What? I thought your name was Sandra not Amanda"…."How was I to know she was your sister")._

Since the Broward County Mystery Spot Sam's been, well, like Sam only spread out too thinly. He'll laugh at Dean's jokes but the sound is just one note away from hysteria. He'll make an effort to kid around and rib Dean like he's always done but it's softer now, gentler. Too submissive, like he doesn't want to poke fun at the brother he's not going to get to keep.

Sam's not been giving Dean an inch of breathing space lately, barely letting him out of his sight. _Asphyxiated by a paranoid little brother_, Dean wonder's whether he'd get a Darwin Award for that one. Dean knows little brother is there right now, hovering outside the bathroom door. He knows that if he were to yank the door open, he'd end up flattened by the sasquatch who's lent up against it. _Hmmm that might be a better way to kick the oxygen habit than waiting to end up a hell hound's chew toy._

Dean took sanctuary in the bathroom because he couldn't stand much more sitting around in their motel room. Sam's been staring at the television set but not really seeing it and Dean's been staring at his little brother but not really seeing him either which is funny considering the geek was sitting right across from him. There's no hunt on the cards. Since they settled in this rundown motel on the edge of Death Valley, Sam's not even bothered to fetch his laptop from the Impala. Dean's bought a newspaper from the last gas station they stopped at but it mysteriously disappeared, Dean didn't even get to glance at the funnies let alone scan the obituary column. They've not quit hunting but Sam clearly needs a little relax time. A day or two maybe more, maybe less but enough to get himself together because at present whenever Dean looks in Sam's eyes, all he sees is emptiness. A hole so big it could swallow them both.

Dean's turns on the tap and lets the cold water run for until it's icy enough to numb his fingers; cupping his hands underneath the flow he collects a handful and splashes it over his face. Sam's knuckles rap at the bathroom door. "You okay in there Dean?"

Dean's been doing this dance with Sam for a couple of days now and he's trying hard not to loose his patience, but it's becoming a challenge after he's been asked the same question for the umpteenth time in an hour. "Fine." He shouts back, knowing full well that if he doesn't come out soon, Sam will be back rapping at the door again.

Dean does eventually emerge from the bathroom. Towel wrapped round his waist, billows of steam spewing forth as he opens the door. Sam's sat on his bed. He'd obviously given up his sentry post outside the bathroom but had replaced standing guard with gazing at the door as though he could develop x-ray vision if he just stared hard enough. Dean's pleasantly surprised to see there's a coffee waiting for him. Looks like little brother trusted him to survive alone for five minutes after all.

The coffee's still hot, black and strong with two sugars. Dean peels off the plastic lid and sips at it, hoping the caffeine hit kicks in fast. Sam's supping a coffee too, Dean doesn't ask what girlie crap his brother is drinking this time but he can smell a hint of hazelnut in the air and there's a thin streak on cream on Sam's top lip. _(Wussy hazelnut decaf mocha with whipped cream and mini marshmallows no doubt.) _Dean peers through the steam rising from his coffee to glance at Sam and notices that little brother is wearing his patented kicked puppy dog look, which matches the drippy coffee he's drinking perfectly.

"You okay?" Dean asks, ignoring how easy it is to be a hypocrite when the boots on the other foot.

Sam's avoiding eye contact, not answering the question and concern absently starts to pummel Dean in the gut. Dean takes another long swig of coffee, draining the cup and jeez; he's _really _tired now. Even more so than before he took his _refreshing _shower. His head is so heavy it keeps tipping forward causing his chin to bounce against his chest like a nodding dog but without the car. Dean shakes his head trying to clear it. He didn't see Sam move but Sam's stood before him, gently lifting the cup from his hands. Sam's enveloped in mist, hazy around the edges and Dean opens his mouth to speak but all he can manage is a slurred, "Sammy? Wha--you done?" Before he face plants on his bed. He's distantly aware of Sam shuffling around the room and then, nothing. The darkness is alluring and Dean relaxes into its arms.

It's almost nightfall when Dean opens his eyes. His first thought is that his mouth is dry and there's an odd taste on his tongue, like he's been sucking on a piece of chalk. His second thought is _'Sam'_ and that wakes him up faster than a bucket of ice water ever could. Sitting up too quickly causes his head to pound and he has to rub at his eyes before he can get rid of the white dots, which are doing the polka across his vision. The room is empty and all Dean can think about then is that he's only got months left, _months_ and Sam's deserted him.

That thought is enough to suck all the air from the room and leave Dean gasping.

No. It doesn't add up. Sam wouldn't do that, wouldn't leave him. Not like this. Then Dean spots Sam's duffel bag still sitting in the corner of the room where Sam left it and suddenly breathing is simple again. Dean gets up from the bed and lurches over to the trash can. His polystyrene coffee cup is discarded at the bottom and Dean reaches in to fish it out. He sniffs at it and notices there's a powdery residue at the bottom. "Son of a bitch, I've been roofied."

SNSNSNSNSNSN

Sam's phone is going straight to voicemail and Dean scrawls through his contacts until he gets to 'Bobby'. Bobby's sure going to love this, another 'hunt the Sam' adventure. His thumb is hovering over the 'call' button when he hears the familiar roar of the Impala's engine outside. Dean's barely has time to get his angry face ready when the motel room door opens and Sam stumbles in.

Sam looks a little surprised to see Dean up and around. A little pale too but Dean's too busy being pissed off to notice. "Dean?" Sam's sucking on his bottom lip like it's a lollypop.

"What the hell is going on Sam?" Dean's angry face is firmly planted by now but it vanishes when his eyes spot a trail of blood, which is winding its way leisurely down Sam's hand and dripping steadily onto the carpet.  
  
Dean hurries across the room as well as he can manage considering he's still woozy. At first Sam flinches away from Dean's hands, which try to remove his jacket. Then he surrenders to them and sinks onto the edge of Dean's bed, unresisting as his jacket is peeled away. There's a bullet wound in Sam's arm, a flesh wound really but deep and bleeding badly enough to leave Sam's face whiter than a TV Evangelist's favorite suit.

"You've been hunting and you drugged me so I wouldn't come with you and get hurt?" Don't let his good looks fool you; Dean's a very smart boy.

"I was faster with the exorcism this time but she still managed to get a shot off….again." Sam mutters and Dean wonders whether to check for a head wound because that didn't make any sense at all.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Dean's still mad and none too gentle as he folds Sam's jacket and presses it against the wound, well, the jacket was ruined away.

"Demon. She needed taking care of. I couldn't just leave her alone she was killing people Dean."

"So you drugged me?" Dean's not getting over that one in a hurry.

"I didn't want you getting hurt. She is—was insane, murdering as many hunters as she could find. I knew I could handle her alone."

"How, how could you possibly know that? You could've been killed. Jesus Sam you can't drug me and go hunting on your own. What the hell were you thinking?" Dean's voice has softened but not because he's forgiven Sam. It's just that he can't bring himself to yell when he can see pain in Sam's eyes and not the type of pain caused by a bullet either.

"I woke up and it was Wednesday but you were dead Dean. For months I hunted on my own until I found the Trickster and then I begged, _pleaded_ with him to bring you back. I killed the demon when I was hunting alone. Bitch shot me then too."

That wasn't what Dean had wanted to hear. Wasn't a whole lot which would make him feel better about the fact his own brother drugged him to begin with but this, _this really sucks_. He knew some bad shit went down at the Mystery Spot. Knew Sam was keeping stuff from him too but hadn't wanted to press Sam for information. Sam seemed like he'd had his buttons pressed quite enough already. Dean grabs hold of Sam's chin and turns his brother's face towards him. There's a smear of blood on Sam's cheek which Dean tries not to look at. "Listen to me. You do this and I may as well be dead already. _I'm still here_ Sam."

Sam's lip quivers and Dean doesn't know if he can handle seeing Sam cry. "We need to get you stitched up." Dean's heading for the first aid kit in the bathroom before Sam can get a word out.

SNSNSNSNSNSN

Sam's asleep on Dean's bed by the time the wound is stitched, wrapped and the pain pills have finally kicked in. He still looks pale and Dean knows he could go and sleep in Sam's bed but he (_doesn't want to_) is convinced his own bed has the softest mattress so he lays down and tries to get comfy even though Sam's elbows are pointy and Sam's like _gigantic_ so there's barely enough room. Dean shifts around and he's pretty much hanging off the bed because Sam has to sleep like a friggin' starfish and is all legs and arms sticking out in different directions. Dean gives up in the end and pulls himself into a sitting position and looking down at Sam all he can see is chestnut curls. It's like being kids again, sharing a bed, and if Dean closes his eyes he can _almost_ hear the sound of dad's quiet breathing coming from the other side of the room.

Dean reaches for the TV remote on the nightstand, presses a button and the screen flickers to life. Dean smiles when he see's the 'Batman' movie is on. It's already half way through but Dean never did see the end so he turns the sound up, just loud enough for him to hear all the cool lines and hunkers back against the headboard to watch.

The movie is almost over when Dean notices that's Sam's awake and watching it with him. Sam looks up finally cottoning on that he's in Dean's bed and...so is Dean. "Dean?"

Dean looks down at Sammy and smiles, "Nope, I'm Batman."

"Yeah Dean, you're Batman." Sam's eyes get moist and Dean tries to pretend he's still watching the movie. "Guess if you've been promoted that makes me Robin."

"Or Batgirl."

Sam smiles softly but isn't dissuaded. "That means we're partners then, we work together and sometimes Dean, _sometimes_ Robin can pull off the saving thing too."

Dean nods a little but he already knows who Sam is intent on saving.

When Dean's year is up and he walks through the valley of souls to stand before the gates of the underworld he'll take each step knowing Sam will save him because Dean might like to pretend he doesn't know much but he knows that much about life at least.

-end-


End file.
